


The Teacher Learns Twice

by Magical_Destiny



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Dex's Diner, Gen, Jedi Knights, Jedi Training, Padawan Obi-Wan, Pre-Star Wars: Attack of the Clones, Pre-Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Teacher Obi-Wan, fun with a side of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8047909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magical_Destiny/pseuds/Magical_Destiny
Summary: Early in his apprenticeship, Obi-Wan learns an important lesson. The words of Qui-Gon Jinn become a legacy in the most surprising of ways and the most unorthodox of settings — Dex’s Diner.





	The Teacher Learns Twice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrstater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrstater/gifts).



> Happy birthday, mrstater. <3

Master Qui-Gon Jinn had a reputation at the Jedi Temple. As one of the few Masters who was not part of the Council, he was rarely present on Coruscant for long. When he _was_ present, it was usually for the purpose of being officially reprimanded by the Council in person, if the constant rumors were to be believed. Of course, the padawans only ever heard whispers of what went on behind the Council’s closed doors. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t believe the gossip. Not anymore, at any rate. He’d only just ascended from Initiate to Padawan, and he’d made the calculated decision to build his relationship with his new Master on the firmest foundation: a perfectly clean slate and an appropriate amount of respect. 

Being chosen as a padawan learner carried a sense of accomplishment — or had, at first. Siri had quickly quelled that, commenting under her breath that the Council was pressuring Master Jinn into taking a padawan. According to her, he had probably picked Obi-Wan because he was among the last to participate in the Apprentice Tournament and was in danger of being packed off to the Service Corps if he wasn’t chosen. Obi-Wan had mostly ignored her, aside from a quick quip about whether she was quite sure her master was a Jedi, since she seemed to be learning nothing more than how to spread lies. 

Privately, he thought her story sounded painfully correct. Well, if Master Jinn was expecting to be saddled with a student who would be a burden and a bother, a student he could complain about to the Council and send off to the Service Corps at the first available opportunity, he was in for a surprise. Obi-Wan hadn’t studied his lessons late into every night, practiced his lightsaber forms until he dreamed in sparring matches, and recited the Code to himself until it came to his lips more easily than breath so he could be a failure as a padawan. He would surprise Master Jinn with his abilities. He would show him exactly—

“Obi-Wan?” Master Jinn materialized in the doorway to Obi-Wan’s half of the Temple quarters they had been assigned. The walls and carpets and furnishings were bare and muted, all designed to be conducive to peace and meditation. Obi-Wan hadn’t altered the look of his tiny room when he’d moved into it; it wasn’t as if he had much more than his datapads anyway. 

He was hard-pressed to conceal his start of surprise at Qui-Gon’s appearance, but he just managed. Obi-Wan set his face in the blank mask of serenity the Masters so often wore, and stood up to face his own master, leaving a pile of datapads behind him on the sofa. His master eyed the stack with open amusement. 

“Studying, are we? You’ve just passed the Initiate Trials and competed in the Tournament. Perhaps you’d be better served by rest.”

Master Jinn smiled quite a lot, it seemed. Or perhaps smirking was a better word. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what was so amusing. Perhaps he’d been expecting a padawan with a lackluster commitment to the academic side of Jedi training. 

“I don’t need to rest now,” he replied dutifully. “But thank you, Master.” 

Qui-Gon studied him for a long moment, his eyes drifting from Obi-Wan to the datapads to the curving transparisteel window that ran the length of Obi-Wan’s room. “Come with me, Obi-Wan,” he said at last. He swept out of the room, his long outer robe trailing behind him. 

Obi-Wan blinked. Perhaps his master was taking him at his word and believed he was ready for an assignment. Perhaps the entire conversation had been a test. He hurried to pull on his own robe, suppressing an eager grin. Only when he had managed to school his features again did he follow Master Jinn into the common room. 

It was not as bare and featureless as Obi-Wan remembered. There were a few carved figures on the low center table and a woven tapestry now hung over the small corner kitchen. Master Jinn had added a few objects to the room. Obi-Wan forced down both his surprise and his desire to ask impertinent questions. What were these objects? Gifts? 

Possessions? 

His master was waiting by the doorway, his arms folded and tucked into the wide sleeves of his robe. Obi-Wan moved to stand beside him, putting away all his questions and waiting for further instructions. 

“Have you ever been to the lower levels of the city?” his master inquired. 

“Not yet, Master.” 

Qui-Gon nodded. “I do hope you like grease-based foods, my young apprentice.” He palmed the door lock and swept through the open doorway. Obi-Wan stared after him for several seconds before he remembered to follow. 

===

Coruscant was renowned throughout the Galaxy as a city-planet: a single, massive urban expanse that spread across the world from pole to pole. The skyscrapers towered thousands of stories high, the uppermost levels housing the top tiers of society, business, and politics. Obi-Wan was used to the view from the Jedi Temple — a metallic forest of glittering spires that ended in a thick crush of duracrete platforms, walkways, and the rooftops of structures that didn’t climb so high. If the elevated world of the skyscrapers was a forest of ancient, massive trees, then the lower levels made up the under canopy of stragglers. 

Initiates were not allowed out of the Temple alone, and certainly not into the lower levels, not even in groups. Obi-Wan had heard that if you went down far enough into the maze of crisscrossing walkways and platforms, eventually the sunlight turned into nothing but shadow. A few padawans told foolish stories about the pale people who wandered like ghosts on the ground level of the planet, lost far below the sun’s reach. Others contended that you couldn’t find the ground at all. If someone were to fall from the top of a skyscraper, they insisted, the unfortunate being would plummet so far and so long that they’d starve to death before the drop killed them. 

Foolishness, all of it. 

Still, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but look around in fascination when Qui-Gon led the way out of the cramped air taxi, stepping onto a stained duracrete sidewalk worn smooth and scuffed dark by countless feet. The sun spilled easily over the taller buildings around them — some cylindrical, some square, and some like slightly squashed pyramids — and even reached the tiny businesses nestled at the feet of their bigger counterparts. Obi-Wan was standing hundreds of stories below the uppermost levels of the city, but he was still well within the range of the sun. He wondered how far down he’d have to go before it disappeared, and almost shivered at the thought. 

They walked between the clustered buildings and the paved paths for landspeeders, dodging a group of tourists piling out of a bus. Their collective focus seemed to be on their holocameras and not their surroundings, but one of them, a short, quick-sighted Sullustan, stared at his master. 

“A Jedi!” Obi-Wan was almost sure he heard him say as they passed. But Qui-Gon merely waved his hand and continued his brisk pace forward. The Sullustan’s gaze had drifted away when Obi-Wan glanced back. He was on the point of asking his new master if he’d just influenced the mind of a tourist when his gaze caught on a particularly foul bit of graffiti plastered in the narrow crevice between two buildings. Obi-Wan averted his eyes in disgust. So uncivilized. 

Qui-Gon finally halted in front of the strangest structure on the block. It was a rectangular, single-story building with rounded corners and dull, dirty chrome siding. Neon red lights lined the roof and hung in the windows to spell out a welcome. 

_Open!_

Obi-Wan stared. 

Qui-Gon led the way through the small, open air doorway. 

Inside, the strangeness continued. The half-corroded chrome covered an alarming amount of the interior of the structure, alternating with something even cheaper and far less shiny along the majority of the walls. Aluminum, perhaps? Every remaining surface, — booths along the walls, stools around the bar, and a large window opening onto a steam-filled kitchen — was covered in red faux nerf leather that had seen better days. Obi-Wan smelled the overpowering aroma of grease and, underneath it somewhere, meat. He blinked. 

It was…a restaurant? 

He stared at his master, waiting for an explanation for this strange outing, but Qui-Gon was smiling wide and nodding toward the kitchen. Obi-Wan turned in time to see a male Besalisk emerge from behind the bar, plodding toward them with as much speed as his massive frame could manage. When he spread his four arms to embrace Qui-Gon, he was almost as wide as he was tall.

“Qui-Gon,” he declared, his voice deep and gravelly. “Good to see you, buddy.” Two of his meaty hands gave a sound thump to Qui-Gon’s back before releasing him. His fleshy face swung toward Obi-Wan next, his eyes squinting as his wide mouth spread into a smile that made his jowls shake. “And who’s this?”

“This,” said Qui-Gon, “is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Obi-Wan, this is Dexter Jettster. He owns this diner.” 

“Very nice to meet you, sir,” Obi-Wan said dutifully, and didn’t allow any of his spiraling confusion into his voice. 

Dexter rumbled a laugh. “None of that, now, none of that!” he said with cheerful vehemence. “You Jedi are all alike with your manners and your sophistication.” Dexter’s smile was full of sharp teeth when he grinned. “Present company excepted, of course. It’s a good thing you’ve got Qui-Gon to show you the ropes.” 

Obi-Wan felt no warning of danger from the Force before he was smothered in Dexter’s enthusiastic embrace. There was a trickle of something akin to panic in the back of his mind; he slapped it back like a fire threatening to climb too high. He couldn’t remember ever being _hugged_ before. And certainly not by a stranger. He felt mostly sure he’d contained his expression of shock when Dexter finally released him, but Qui-Gon’s raised eyebrow made him doubt himself. 

Dexter gestured toward the nearest booth with two of his hands; Obi-Wan shakily took one side as Qui-Gon and Dex crowded into the other. 

“I’m glad to meet you, Obi-Wan. You’re lucky to have this one here for a mentor. He’s the reason I have this place, you know,” Dex said, and Obi-Wan could feel the echo of his sincerity in the Force. “I’d just gotten into the Core, finally going to try my dream of running a restaurant on Coruscant with the money I’d made prospecting. It’s a good business, prospecting, but rough on the frame. I think I left a decade of my life cycle back on Subterrel.” Dexter guffawed loudly, and the sound gave way to a rasping cough. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but stare. “It was a long sight better than the bounty hunting, anyway. That’s a young man’s game. But that’s a story for another time.” 

Obi-Wan stared harder. His eyes slid to Qui-Gon, who wasn’t looking in his direction. He was friendly with a former bounty hunter? It might not be directly against the Code, but it was certainly at least an implied rule that Jedi didn’t deal with the morally questionable…

“You want some Jawa juice?” Obi-Wan started at the sudden question directly at his side. A vaguely humanoid serving droid balanced on a single wheel had trundled up to take their order. 

“Um,” Obi-Wan said, and was on the point of politely refusing, but Qui-Gon pushed a menu — an actual flimsiplast menu — in front of him. 

“Order something, Obi-Wan. You haven’t eaten since the tournament.”

He _was_ feeling a little out of sorts, he supposed. Obi-Wan ordered the first thing on the menu: a bantha burger and Jawa juice. His stomach rumbled almost as an afterthought as the droid took Qui-Gon’s order.

“You’ll like that, son, the burgers here are second to none,” Dex told him with a grin. “But what was I saying? Oh, yeah. Your master, here. I was busy getting cornered and mugged like a two-credit moron, and Qui-Gon Jinn appeared out of the clear blue sky to stop it. I’d’ve never had the money to open this place if he hadn’t stepped in. So he eats free these days. You too, son. You’re both like family as far as I’m concerned.”

The serving droid returned, placing Obi-Wan’s drink in front of him with a promise that his food would be out soon. Obi-Wan nodded, but avoided his drink for a moment, testing his ability to swallow first. 

Family?

“Thank you,” he replied, and his confusion was definitely leaking into his tone now. Dexter laughed harder than ever. 

“Jedi!” he guffawed. “So focused on knowledge that you don’t know things like good will when they kriffing bite you in the ass.” 

Obi-Wan choked on his Jawa juice. 

“Perhaps slightly less color in your speech, Dex,” Qui-Gon said. “For the time being.” 

“I’m very sorry, son,” Dex apologized sincerely, but Obi-Wan saw the twinkle of amusement in his eye.

“Please don’t concern yourself,” he replied, trying to avoid a coughing fit now that Jawa juice was caught in his nose and throat. 

Dex nodded in Obi-Wan's direction before turning to Qui-Gon. “How about a drink?”

“Dex,” Qui-Gon said with a small smile, “I would love one.”

Dex grinned and flagged down the droid server with a single request: “The usual.” He turned back to Obi-Wan. “I was going to open a bar originally. But Qui-Gon here suggested a diner instead. I keep just one drink on the menu in his honor. Not the public menu, mind. I'm letting you in on the best kept secret in the Coruscant food business, kid.” Dex rested on his two topmost elbows as he leaned over the table. “The Jinn.” 

Obi-Wan had never had an alcoholic beverage in his life, but he nodded sagely and pretended to be engaged with his own drink, a surprisingly sweet juice blend in a silver cup. It was, thankfully, better polished than the chrome all around them. Dex and Qui-Gon fell into friendly conversation as the droid brought out two plates of food: a steaming bantha burger that made Obi-Wan’s mouth water and a pile of some sort of glazed ribs for his master. The Jinn was presented in a tiny chilled glass that fogged when Qui-Gon grasped it. 

“Enjoy that,” Dex said, and finally eased out of the booth with a groan, heaving himself up like it took a great deal of effort. He straightened his grease-spotted shirt. 

“Always a pleasure to see you, Qui-Gon. Don’t be a stranger. You either, youngling,” he said to Obi-Wan, and patted him on the shoulder before plodding off to the kitchen. 

Obi-Wan stared after him. 

Qui-Gon studied his plate of ribs. 

“You’re wondering why I brought you here,” Qui-Gon said suddenly, pulling Obi-Wan’s gaze back in his direction. “My very young apprentice, it’s time for you to learn your first and most important lesson. It's something my own master never taught me, but I have every intention of teaching it to you.”

So there _was_ a purpose to this strange outing. At last. Obi-Wan leaned forward eagerly, pushing his plate aside. 

Qui-Gon leaned forward as well, a strange smile on his face. He reached out —

— and pulled Obi-Wan’s plate back in front of him, pushing it close. “Relax,” his master said simply, and lifted a glazed rib to his lips.

===

_Thirteen Years Later_

===

The living Force operated in many strange ways. Attachment was forbidden by the Jedi Code, and yet the Jedi acknowledged the vital necessity — and indeed the practical inevitability — of Force bonds between masters and apprentices. Living and training together forged strong bonds in the fabric of the Force itself, like tiny capillaries stretching between two cells in a much larger body. Connection was vital; attachment was unacceptable. The two overlapped sometimes, of course. The uncertain boundaries between what was necessary and what was wrong had always troubled Obi-Wan. The boundaries of emotion and attachment were of particularly painful significance to him now. 

The far end of Obi-Wan’s Force bond with his master was ragged and silent. An artery slashed and cauterized, bleeding only internally. Obi-Wan knew he should avoid the bond now that it was cold and closed, but it lingered like the phantom sensation of a lost limb. As though, if he reached out just one more time, he might feel something other than a void. He felt like a Kath hound licking at an open wound, heedless of the fact that it was only making a bad situation worse. He disliked the feeling of losing control. He disliked feeling in general, when it came in forms like this. He was almost grateful that Anakin’s integration into the Temple was a challenging task that absorbed most of his spare thoughts. 

Almost.

Anakin wasn’t finding a place among his peers. He’d been placed in several Initiate classes to help fill in the gaps in his knowledge, and Obi-Wan had heard from his teachers that he’d been reprimanded for arguing and using Tatooine street language. Obi-Wan had yet to see any of this behavior himself; Anakin was grave and silent in their shared quarters, staring out the windows as often as not, or watching various speeder races on his datapad. Obi-Wan had also seen him studying classroom texts, but his expression had been pained. Obi-Wan’s offers of help had been waved off. Anakin just didn’t talk to him the way he had talked to Qui-Gon. 

The absence at the other end of the Force bond lingered and stung. It was silent no matter how many times Obi-Wan asked what he ought to do about the boy who was too old to be trained as a Jedi, and too strong in the Force not to be. It was a thorny problem, indeed. 

But if he couldn’t consult his master, perhaps he could emulate him. 

“Anakin,” he called, pulling the young boy’s focus from his datapad. He was fairly sure the screen displayed a set of technical blueprints for hot-wiring speeders, but he elected not to notice that. Today would be a day for harmony. Besides, the boy could only get into so much trouble. He shook off the tremor of unease he felt — and hoped fervently that it wasn’t a Force-fueled premonition. 

“Yeah?” Anakin asked in distraction. Obi-Wan reminded himself that Anakin was still learning the ways of the Jedi and stopped the automatic correction that threatened to fall from his tongue. _Anakin, the appropriate response is ‘Yes, Master.’_

_“_ Let’s go find something to eat, shall we?” he said instead. “I have a place I’d like to show you. And someone you should meet.” 

Anakin let out a sound that was too close to a _whoop_ for Obi-Wan’s comfort, but he was smiling, at least, and that was something. One step at a time.

===

Anakin had been living on Coruscant for weeks now, but his eyes still widened as he all but pressed himself against the viewport of the speeder Obi-Wan had selected from the Temple’s hangar bay. Anakin could usually be counted on to break his silence when it came to speeders and all things mechanical, but he’d declared that the Temple “didn’t have any good speeders” the very first time they’d taken one out and said no more on the subject afterward. 

Obi-Wan suppressed a sigh at the memory, and decided to see if the Temple’s shop class had any openings for Anakin. The boy needed outlets and Force knew Obi-Wan wasn’t the one to help him with that particular hobby. He winced at the uncomfortably close swipe of a speeder in the opposite skylane as the traffic trickled at a maddening pace through the sky. 

“This is really slow,” Anakin said, still staring at the skyscrapers. Obi-Wan had seen the view for decades now, but he could imagine how confounding the city-planet must look to a boy from the Outer Rim. “Why can’t you just go around?”

“That would violate more than a few traffic laws, my young apprentice,” Obi-Wan answered. Swinging out of the crawling line of speeders was certainly tempting. He imagined it for a moment, breaking away and plummeting down toward the rooftops far below. His stomach clenched in protest and he banished the thought. Flying was such a wretched business. 

“Do you have to have speeder licenses here? When can I get one? I’ll be ten soon.” 

It was the first time he’d heard Anakin talk quite so much since before Qui-Gon’s funeral. Obi-Wan took several breaths before answering. “Licenses are required, yes. But you have a few years before that will be a possibility.”

Anakin deflated, but only momentarily. He was pressed against the glass again before long. 

The traffic inched forward. Mercifully, their destination was only a short distance from the Temple. At this rate, Obi-Wan thought cheerfully, they might actually make it before Coruscant’s sun reached the end of its life cycle. 

“You’re a really careful pilot,” Anakin remarked, turning to look at Obi-Wan’s tight grip on the joysticks. “Do you not like flying?”

“Flying is necessary,” Obi-Wan answered simply. He felt Anakin’s frustration over the clipped answer like the press of a dense, unbreathable atmosphere. He opened his mouth to elaborate, but Anakin had turned away again. 

“I love flying,” he murmured. “I’m very good at it.” 

“You are,” Obi-Wan agreed. “But I’m afraid we don’t have podracing on Coruscant.” 

The turnoff for the lower levels was finally approaching; Obi-Wan slid into the exit lane, ignoring the eruption of honking behind him. There was no obstruction or danger — just a Rodian experiencing anger over the speed of the traffic. 

“What a _sleemo,_ ” Anakin muttered under his breath. Obi-Wan added _adjusting foul speech patterns_ to his mental list of corrections Anakin was sorely in need of. But he felt Anakin’s sagging mood and noted the slump of his shoulders, and decided it could wait. 

===

Anakin's mood lifted the instant they walked into the diner. Obi-Wan could practically feel his excitement like needlepoints against his skin. He led the way to an empty booth and Anakin all but bounced into the seat. 

“I’ve never eaten at a restaurant before!” He said in a fervent whisper. “This is so wizard…” He stared at the menu.

“I would suggest the bantha burger,” Obi-Wan said sagely. “And the Jawa juice.”

“They have food from Tatooine here?”

“They have food from everywhere here, Anakin.” 

Anakin dove into the menu in excitement. 

The serving droid, aging and just slightly rusted, rolled up to their booth. “Can I take your order?”

Anakin looked up with something like panic, darting an imploring glance at Obi-Wan. “I can’t decide,” he muttered.

“Two bantha burgers with Jawa juice,” Obi-Wan ordered. Anakin relaxed again. “And tell Dex that Obi-Wan is here, please,” Obi-Wan added. The droid rolled away. 

“Who’s Dex?” Anakin asked, studying the corroded gleam of the diner. 

“Obi-Wan!” Dex shuffled out of the kitchen, wearing his usual combination of low-slung trousers, grease-spotted shirt, and hopelessly stained apron. Obi-Wan stood to embrace him. 

Dex held on longer than usual, and pulled away with a squeeze instead of a rough thump on the back. His small eyes were shining with tears and his smile was a little wobbly. It was the first time they’d seen each other since Qui-Gon’s passing. Obi-Wan let the rush of grief fall over him and flow away again. 

“Dex,” he said, “this is my padawan, Anakin Skywalker.” 

Anakin stood up immediately, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said. Dex’s massive hand engulfed Anakin’s and he pulled him into a hug. 

“Good to meet you, son. I remember when Obi-Wan here was a whipper snapper like you, just starting off as a padawan. And look at him now — a knight! You’ll be there too, before you know it.” Dex looked him up and down. His massive frame was slow and methodical, but his mind was sharp as a laser. “You from the Rim?”

“Tatooine,” Anakin nodded. 

“You’ve got the accent,” Dex replied as they all squeezed into the booth. “And the tan. Nothing like getting cooked under those twin suns.”

“Mom used to say we were all overdone,” Anakin agreed. 

Dex laughed long and loud. “I did some traveling myself, in my time. Seeing the galaxy is good for the soul. But settling is better. You like Coruscant?” 

Anakin nodded energetically and Dex grinned. 

“Good, good. I’ve spent happy years here. With friends like Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan to keep things interesting.” 

Anakin flinched away from the mention of Qui-Gon’s name. Dex watched him sympathetically until a shout from inside the steam-filled kitchen pulled his focus. “I turn my back for a standard minute, and the whole operation goes to pieces. I’ll be back,” Dex grunted, heaving himself up to trudge behind the bar. 

The serving droid trundled by, placing two silver cups of Jawa juice in front of them. Anakin sipped at his in silence. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan began, folding his hands quite seriously. “I have an important lesson for you today.” 

Anakin looked somewhere between excited and alarmed. He took one last massive gulp of his drink and pushed it aside to listen. 

“We remember our friends, Anakin,” Obi-Wan began. “And we honor their memory. Always.” Anakin shrank in front of his eyes, like a star crushing down into its final, coldest form. But Obi-Wan wasn’t quite finished. “But remember this, too, Anakin,” he said. “Even the Jedi can have fun.” 

He sipped his own Jawa juice; it had been quite some time since he’d indulged in something so very sweet. 

Anakin stared at him. And then he broke into a hesitant grin. 

“Dex knows a great many stories about every known part of the Galaxy,” Obi-Wan continued after a moment. “You should ask him to tell you some.” 

Anakin nodded distantly, wheels turning behind his eyes. 

“Food’ll be up in a minute,” Dex grunted when he returned a moment later, easing himself into the booth beside Obi-Wan. “Now where were we?” 

“Obi-Wan says you’ve been almost everywhere in the Galaxy,” Anakin broke in. “Is that true?”

“Just about,” Dex answered with a grin. “And what holds your interest, son?” 

Anakin considered for a moment. “Do you know anything about the Angels? On the moons of Iego?”

Dex laughed. “When you were a youngling, Obi-Wan, you had edges squarer and sharper than the Temple. But this one!” He thumped the table and their cups rattled. “You’ve got a firebrand on your hands. All the wide Galaxy, and he asks about those sirens. Alright, son. Angels. I've met some in my time.”

Anakin’s eyes were wide and shining as he leaned in to listen. Obi-Wan was pleased with the smile that had settled over his lips and the ease with which he’d been speaking. 

Maybe what Anakin needed from him, for now, was simply more time. Something Qui-Gon had always readily given to both of them. 

Their burgers appeared at last, fragrant and steaming. Anakin divided his attention between listening and eating at a pace too rapid and enthusiastic to be quite polite. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan smiled as he leaned toward the serving droid. 

“If you don’t mind,” he said quietly. “I’ll have a Jinn.” 

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of notes about my inspiration: I threw in a few random references to Jude Watson’s Jedi Apprentice book series. I read those obsessively as a teenager, so my view of how the Jedi Order works has been forever colored by that. It’s been years since I read them, however, so I relied on Wookieepedia to refresh my memory and I was mostly content to let my references to those books be vague and passing. 
> 
> As for Dexter Jettster, I made up my own version of his backstory based on AOTC and flavored with his backstory in the EU. None of that’s canon now, of course, but it was fun to add bits of it to the mix. 
> 
> But my main note here is that mrstater is my very dear friend and I wish her the happiest of birthdays. I’m so glad you’ve joined me in Star Wars fandom, even if I am a terrible curmudgeon about most of the new canon. I hope your day is wonderful and your year is wonderful and full of every happiness in fandom and IRL. <3
> 
> mrstater writes lovely Star Wars fics (among many other fandoms!) which you can find [ here ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mrstater/pseuds/mrstater). Check them out! And let me know if you enjoyed this jaunt through Dex's Diner. ;)


End file.
